


the only things that echo

by katakokk



Series: here the stone images are raised, here they receive [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Implied Incest, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katakokk/pseuds/katakokk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are forgotten as time passes through different worlds. Lucy remembers it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only things that echo

**Author's Note:**

> The Chronicles of Narnia is property of C.S. Lewis, Walden Media, etc. Some situations & titles are property of bedlamsbard of Livejournal. Title and quote text from Viola Lee's Conversations with Objects, which I found at be_themoon's journal.

> _come colder days when no one is out_

The door slams. Lucy screams.

Footsteps pound up the stairs and she throws herself against the wall opposite the stairs on the landing, groping for a dagger before she remembers England.

Peter skips the last two steps and looks between her and the door. Immediately, he walks over to the door and begins knocking on it. “Su? Susan! Susan, I know you’re in there.”

When the door remains closed, he turns towards her, cold anger hardening his eyes. “What happened?”

Lucy lifts her chin defiantly and doesn’t meet his eyes. “You’d take Susan’s side.”

“Stop being childish, Lucy.” Peter says, and she can see him roll his eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

She refuses and sees his jaw clench in frustration. “Lucy,” he warns.

“I’m not telling you.” From inside the boys’ room, she can hear Edmund shift by the door. “And Edmund, I know you’re listening.”

Edmund pokes his head out of the bedroom door with a wry grin. “So you caught me, Lu.”

“Alright, Lu, Ed’s here to side with you,” Peter says, and Lucy knows she’s cornered. “Now tell me.”

She bites her lip and slowly removes herself from the wall. She’s expecting Peter to launch himself at her, to release his anger physically, but she should have known he’d reserve such behavior for Susan and whatever they do behind closed doors (not that they’ve done much of that since before).

“Come on, Lu,” Edmund encourages. She can see that he’s tense too; he’s expecting the worst.

Lucy’s eyes flicker between her two older brothers warily. “Susan,” she glares at the closed door, “was being Susan.”

“And?” Peter asks. “That never bothered you in Narnia.”

“That’s exactly it!” Lucy screams, pointing a finger at Peter and knowing, deep inside, that she’s probably going to have hysterics. “Because this is England. It isn’t Narnia anymore.”

“We’re all aware of that, Lu,” Edmund says quietly.

“Yes, I know,” she says, turning on Edmund. “This isn’t Narnia, because it is England, but just because we’re stuck in soddy old England doesn’t mean we’ve got to become soddy old hags!”

“I’m going to assume you’re referring to Su,” Edmund says, pointing at the closed door. 

“Who else could it be? I don’t give a damn if she’s angry and she hates it, because...Aslan, we all hate it here, even if I can’t even remember half of the things we’ve gone through, I hate it here.” Tears are running down her face now and she knows she must look deranged. “But now she has to go and pretend that Aslan doesn’t even exist, after everything...after the Stone Table, after the Trees, after the World’s End-.” The last one is deliberate, because part of her is tired of all of this, and she knows Peter will take the bait.

“Lucy,” Peter growls, “We weren’t there for that.” 

“But you don’t see, do you?” She wails, hysterical and furious all at once. “She’s betrayed us. She was there, we all were, and yet she still’s going around pretending she’s nothing more than Susan Pevensie, pretty girl with some nice lipstick.” Spent, she collapses onto the floor, her red rimmed eyes staring at the carpet.

For a long time, their tableau is silent. Lucy is aware of Edmund kneeling by her as she stares at the worn down designs on the carpet. Peter just stands there, which is unusual, because she saw the icy fury in his eyes, she saw it. An odd stony silence penetrates the landing, and Lucy can no longer hear muffled sobs from behind the closed door.

Then Peter moves and breaks the silence. He says something, and she looks up slowly. He continues speaking, but the words are garbled in her ears because there’s an echo ringing in her ears from the silence before.

Before she knows it, Peter is gone and Edmund is sitting in front of her, meeting her blank, dazed gaze. He speaks, and this time she comes crashing back and now it is Ed’s voice ringing in her ears.

“Lucy, Susan remembers,” Edmund says, barely more than a whisper but it reverberates in her ears. “She remembers because she’s in her room crying and Peter and her relationship didn’t start over in England, it went on, and she’s made every horny, useless boy who’s ever done something utterly idiotic to her very sorry before Pete or I could.”

The words echo, distort, and right themselves in Lucy’s mind, changing languages until she’s hearing him speak in Narnian, in Shoushani, in Calormene. They live and hum and almost breathe until she remembers it all: the anger and frustration and Susan’s denial and betrayal and everything she hates and cannot stand for.

She bites her lip and clenches her hands into fists. The hate fills her up again, burning slow and fast. “Does it matter?” She asks Edmund. “Does it really matter? Because she doesn’t act like it and she acts like everyone else, caking her face with the stupid powder and wearing nylons. Because you know, Ed, none of that really matters if she’s going to act the way she does. She made the choice, she betrayed us.”

Edmund’s face goes white when she finishes. He presses his lips into a thin line and Lucy looks away. She knows that he’ll leave; she brought up betrayal, of course he will. And so he does: he gets up and she watches his socked feet walk away. She’s all alone now.

She’s all alone on the landing, and there’s nothing to scream at it, nothing to throw against a wall, nothing to hurt except herself. But as Lucy sits in a heap on the floor, the anger settles. It remains within her, but it no longer boils. Now it stews and simmers.

But after the anger calms, the hurt rises up. She hates this part, when she’s not really angry anymore, just sad. The overwhelming urge to cry rises up in her chest and she clutches at her skirt, closing her eyes against the tears. 

Before, she’d always retreat into the bathroom (Susan always took their room), huddle between the bathtub and the toilet, and cry herself dry. 

But not this time. This time, she will not let the tears fall. She is Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia, Stoneheart, Morningstar, Queen of Morning.

She will not cry because she has slain so many and seen the ground littered with bodies, and what is one dead traitor compared to that?

She will be Stoneheart; she will bring with her the morning star and the new day.

Damn Susan and her betrayal, she is the Queen of Morning, never the Queen of Mourning.


End file.
